Alone
by XiXi Scarlett
Summary: It always sat on the sill of the window Draco loved to look out of. Why do things have to die? Why can't they just stay forever?


Alone

By: XiXi Scarlett

Little Draco Malfoy sat in his room. He was playing with a few toys, but it was getting quite boring. Draco couldn't do anything about it, though. He was always told to stay in his room and play with his toys, or play with the house-elves, or read a book, or sometimes he would write a little story that he could show Mummy. Whenever Father's friends were over, Draco had to stay upstairs in his room. He never knew what went on downstairs, but he never thought it was something important.

When Draco read, he would read books much more advanced than a regular six-year-old would read. He would read old spell-books and pretend to be a professor at Hogwarts and teach his stuffed animals how to be a wizard. He would teach them the importance of being a pureblood, and how bad being anything else was. After all, he was teaching exactly what Mummy and Father had taught him.

The house-elves were nice to him. Dobby gave him a biscuit or two every once in a while. Draco didn't have much fun playing with house-elves. He thought it was fun sometimes when they would show him puppet shows at his demand. Draco didn't quite know why the house-elves didn't get clothes like he did. He had asked Father about it once, but all he had told Draco was that he should mind his own business.

What Draco thought was most interesting was the way his window showed the garden. In the garden, the rules were look don't touch. Draco had thought it was unfair, and threw a tiny little tantrum that he should at least have his room with a window showing the garden. It was only a tiny tantrum, though. Just a tiny one. And look at what he got! Exactly what he wanted. Draco liked to look at the garden. The flowers were colorful, and the grass was very green in the summer. Sometimes he would see Mummy walking around in the garden. She would sometimes sit and look, and other times she would even tend to the flowers. Usually, it was the house-elves that saw to the garden, but Draco loved watching Mummy do it. She looked so happy when she did.

When Draco had told Mummy this, she gave him his very own flower to keep on his windowsill. Draco thought it was a very pretty flower ("Almost as pretty as you!" he had told Mummy). The petals were green, and the little inside middle part that Draco didn't know the name of was a bright yellow. Draco watered his little flower every day, and on days when he had to stay in his room, he sometimes talked to it. He would tell it about what he saw at Knockturn Alley that day, or what Auntie Bella brought him.

But with all the toys and house-elves, Draco got lonely. He talked to the flower because he thought it would be very much like talking to a person. He talked to other pureblood children before, but Draco didn't like them very much. He had gotten punished because he called the girl called Pansy ugly. The other one name Blaise wasn't very interesting; he kept to himself mostly. Vincent and Gregory wanted to play rough games, and Draco didn't want to play games like that.

Sometimes, the flower would look particularly droopy, so Draco would call for Dobby if Mummy couldn't come. The first time the flower drooped, Draco had started crying. He thought it died. He would have been extremely sad if the flower died. He wouldn't settle for any other flower,because this flower was his flower. His special flower.

Draco especially loved the flower when Mummy and Father were away. Dobby would stay in his room to clean and make sure he didn't get into trouble, but Draco would pay no attention to Dobby and talk to the flower. Sometimes, Draco imagined that the flower would talk back. That the flower would start to respond. But it never did.

Then, exactly a year after Draco had received it, the flower had died. He was seven, and tried not to cry because he was a big boy then. But at night, his promise to himself was broken. He had cried over his little flower friend.

And now, eleven years later at the most, Draco lays in the same bed. The house is perfectly silent. Mummy and Father had left him. For the first time since the flower dies, Draco starts to cry. Without anything to keep him company. No Dobby. No toys, No flower. Draco is completely alone.


End file.
